


Until We Meet Again

by Foxflannel



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Androids, Angst with a Happy Ending, Character Death, Depression, Eating Disorders, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Loss, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-24
Updated: 2018-08-24
Packaged: 2019-07-01 19:47:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15780870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Foxflannel/pseuds/Foxflannel
Summary: The words felt foreign to him as he read and reread them over and over again.  Gavin Reed was truly gone.  Nines knew that.  Nines understood death.  What he didn't understand was how to live without him.





	Until We Meet Again

**Author's Note:**

> This fic DOES include suicide and chronic depression themes, so please do not read if you are uncomfortable with reading or dealing with these themes.  
> As someone who has depression and is still dealing with suicidal tendencies, please, I implore you: if you or a loved one is feeling depressed, please get some help. A friend, a therapist, a teacher, a neighbor...SOMEBODY you trust. You're not alone; you're loved. If you need someone to talk to, my Twitter DMS are always open @Foxflannel
> 
> Suicide hotline and prevention:  
> https://suicidepreventionlifeline.org/
> 
> (Other than that...I really have nothing. Please enjoy this angst-filled trip nobody asked for. Will edit typos when I'm awake)

Everything that day had felt off to Nines for some reason. The weather was somewhat cloudy and decently cold, Gavin's old car took forever to start, and the day at the precinct felt like it had gone slower than usual. The whole day, Gavin had acted oddly. More angry than he usually did yet somehow more withdrawn. He had scanned that his heart rate was inconsistent, fluctuating between beating wildly to averagely pumping blood. Whenever Nines had brought it up that his heart was pounding, Gavin would tell him to mind his own business before crossing his arms angrily and curling in on himself in his work chair.

The drive home was when things started feeling strange. Gavin put on a special CD, one so scuffed and scratched from years of use it was a miracle it even started up. The song started and Gavin skipped it, then the next, going until he found a familiar string of guitar notes and tapping his hands idly on the steering wheel.

“Used to love this song,” Gavin managed, voice low and quiet. “Listened to it all the time in high school. Think I listened to it once a day. I dunno how I even found it but I just...felt drawn to it.”

Nines looked over, curious at what Gavin was getting at, but the man simply sniffled and his face hardened back to the usual countenance it used to be and always was. Nines should have spoken to him more, should have devoted the song to memory. Instead, he simply nodded and resumed looking at the front windshield as other cars drove in front of them, red brake lights flashing across his vision.

He should have spoken to Gavin more.

 

 

 

At home, Gavin didn't eat dinner. He picked at it with a fork and told Nines it wasn't his cooking, he just wasn't hungry. Nines knew he was lying; could hear the small sounds of Gavin's empty gut, but decided better against pressing him and instead took his plate and wrapped it up. Gavin thanked him and curled back into a ball, focusing hard on the TV. Some sort of old cartoon was playing, some animals on two legs talking and going on adventures. Gavin gave a little sniffle before slipping down to rest on his side, head placed awkwardly on the couch's arm rest.

He should have made beef stew; it was Gavin's favorite.

 

 

 

That night was relatively the same. Clothing tossed haphazardly onto the floor and fumbling hands finding their way to the sheets. Kisses planted and peppered along Gavin's prickly cheek and neck, gently tugging on his bottom lip with sharp teeth. A tumble with purpose, with every ounce of love and desperation planted into it. Nines should have felt the air more, should have felt how different it was.

When they finished, he helped clean Gavin up gently with a warm cloth and held him softly in his thick arms, running his fingers through Gavin's dark brown strands. Nines' eyes locked on to a single gray hair and he gave it a gentle tug, hearing Gavin hiss in pain.

“A gray hair.” he teased.

“Leave it alone,” Gavin sulked bitterly, curling into himself and giving Nines a little kick against his shin at the same time. Nines huffed out a small breath of air—his own little laugh—sending the gray hair to sway and melt into the brown tufts, hidden from sight.

“Hey, Nines?” Gavin had asked, voice barely above a whisper.

“Yes?”

“Do you love me?”

“Of course I do, Gavin,” Nines said, planting a small kiss against the hair on Gavin's nape. “I will always love you. Though, perhaps, not as a human can, I certainly try my best.”

“Good. Good, that's...good. I love you too, Nines” Gavin murmured. He sniffled again, settled into his pillow, and sighed out in a shaky breath. Nines cuddled his cheek against the pillow behind Gavin's head and triggered his stasis.

He should have told Gavin he loved him more.

 

 

Nines woke to an empty bed. His stasis had ended earlier than he had set it to and he felt confused. His LED trickled from blue to yellow. The bed had been cold for quite some time minus his own artificial heat and, stepping from bed quietly, he walked over towards the hallway. The kitchen light was on. Was Gavin hungry after all? He took a step towards the kitchen when a sound interrupted him. A sob. A quick choke of breath and the sting of salt in the air.

He slipped into the kitchen quickly and found Gavin at the table, hands gripping his hair tightly, forehead plastered to the solid surface, tears staining the table's cheap wood. He was sobbing quietly for the most part but some were louder than others. A stripped choke of air, a stuttering breath he couldn't control even if he tried to. Violent tremors rippled through his body. Beneath the table, he had his toes curled into each other, as if if he didn't clasp them like hands, his whole body would fall apart.

Nines gently came up behind him and slipped his arms beneath Gavin's, giving him a small hug. Gavin jolted back and smashed Nines in the chest but thankfully it didn't hurt the android, who simply brushed down Gavin's unruly clumped hair and stroked it down tenderly with loving fingertips.

“Gavin, are you alright?” Nines asked quietly. Gavin said nothing; he was hiccuping and wiping his nose on his sleeve and trying to catch his breath. Nines gave him all the time in the world.

 

He should have given him more.

 

 

Gavin started to lose weight. He picked at his food a lot more, ate a solid meal once a day if nothing else. His usual snacks and fatty snacks were still around but they remained packaged and untouched. Nines urged him to eat but he refused. The normally rugged-looking detective growing more pallid, eyelids a dark grey, cheeks hollowing. Even the bullpen started to notice and asked him questions but he retaliated with his usual snaps and assholish quips.

Nines began to go against his programming and better judgment and started making more decadent and oil-rich foods at home. Even if it was junk food, it was nourishment. Things started to get better, with Gavin eating a little more, but it remained relatively the same. A scraped off dish in the wastebin or put in the fridge as leftovers that would eventually spoil.

In place of food, Gavin began to drink more. From his usual red-ringed cans of beer to harder liquor. It was gradual, at first, but it began to grow more prevalent in the coming days. A sip of whiskey here, a shot of vodka snuck into his coffees. Eventually, Gavin was full-on drinking rum from the bottle and spilling it down his chest at he sat at the kitchen table, hand entangled in his hair, the other clutching the bottleneck so hard he was white-knuckling.

Nines tried to talk him out of it but it always ended in a shouting contest, Gavin spewing his normal hatred and disdain, Nines speaking calmly in gentle tones. The arguments grew worse. Gavin got pushy, got physical. Nines took less kiss to the lips nowadays than he received punches, but he took them all and stared at Gavin with such pain, it only escalated further.

Sometimes, Gavin would yell louder until his voice cracked, throat dry and hoarse. Other times he'd realize the gravity of what he did and immediately sink to his knees with painful sobs and fat tears rolling down his cheeks. He'd stay that way for a while, wailing words Nines' intense hearing couldn't even distinguish until he either stared blankly ahead, blinking through swollen red eyes or idly sipping from the bottle until it was gone or his consciousness was. Nines was cleaning Gavin up more often these days, putting him to bed and watching him throughout the night in case his vomited or his vitals diminished.

He should have cared for him more.

 

 

Nines had set Gavin up with a therapist. They spoke a few times a week but Gavin hardly said anything. He sat in the room with crossed arms, refusing to help the person in charge of helping HIM. The therapist was patient. She did everything she could to ask him questions, to probe him a little further each time, but still his lips were sealed. Nines sometimes would fill in the information for him, the therapist scrawling quickly, Gavin sneering and focusing on her fake plants in the corner.

It was dictated that Gavin had depression and anger issues as a result. Nines felt relieved as he went to the pharmacy to fill up the prescription, but there wasn't much that could be done otherwise. Gavin took his pills, twice a day like a good boy, and things eventually settled as he did. He was back to the usual person more or less. Gavin kissed him more, Nines held his hand again. They got to lounge on the couch and watch old movies and Nines could tangle his fingers into Gavin's brown tufts again, finally washed and groomed.

Things were fine. Nines felt relieved. He took on most of Gavin's work so he had less stress to deal with and things returned to their usual entertaining factor. The cat was fed, and Gavin would go for walks, and the liquor consumption almost dropped.

With humans, a routine was never guaranteed.

He should have went to places with Gavin more.

 

 

Gavin relapsed. He cried a lot more. He snapped a lot more. He stopped doing menial tasks like brushing his teeth and washing his cups. He slept in late and stopped going to work almost altogether. Nines took over the chores and washed the blankets, urging Gavin to even swish some mouthwash or apply deodorant, to try and clean one thing in the house a day. Nines played Gavin's favorite songs and put on his favorite movies, made his favorite foods and drinks, made sure he was warm beneath an old blanket Gavin loved.

It didn't stop the tears.

It didn't stop the yelling.

It didn't stop Gavin from taking his pills.

It only made Nines wish things could resume, a time loop he wanted to walk down. He missed the playfully aggressive banter, feeling Gavin sweating beneath him, breathing his name, missed washing Gavin's hair in the shower and hearing him groan even as he complained he wasn't a child yet craned his head this way and that.

“Gavin?” Nines told him one night in bed. Gavin didn't respond but his breathing was quick; he was still awake. “I...I love you. I will do everything I can until you are better.”

Gavin didn't respond but the scent of tears filled the room and the bed rocked with Gavin's deep tremors. He was sobbing again, covering his eyes but letting his mouth cry out in anguished wails. Nines didn't know what to do, so he curled an arm across his chest and pulled him in close.

Nines should have loved him more.

 

 

It was 4:19am on September 29th, 2042 when a gunshot rang out clear in the house. Nines was up like a shot and bolted towards the sound. He was fast, incredibly fast, but everything moved in slow motion. At the kitchen table sat Gavin, slumped over. In his hand was a small pistol Nines had never seen before. His work pistol had been revoked months ago so this one was hidden somewhere in the house. Nines couldn't see his face; the red of his favorite jacket was covering it, small strands of hair the only visibility of his face across the table.

There was a steady trickle of liquid hitting the floor and it took Nines everything in him to scan it. **[Alcohol. Content: 60%. Amberglow. Aged whiskey, est. 1998]** But that wasn't the problem. Nines' blue eyes slowly dragged over Gavin's form and saw more liquid, tiny splatters against the wall. He closed his eyes tightly but the scan continued.

**[Human blood. Substance: Zinc, iron, copper, carbon, nitrogen, oxygen, hydrogen, additional makeups. Identification: Gavin Reed, Age 40, Male, AB+. Status: g2hf5h@ch~g?]**

Status...

“Gavin...?”

**[Time of Death: d6?29ds0+'\?]**

Nines' hand gently reached for his hoodie. Every finger was twitching, a mechanical ache, a glitchy, trembling mess. Why was he trembling? Gavin was okay.

“You really should not drink so late, Detective.”

**[Status: Deceased]**

“You should...you should not...have a gun, Detective...”

**[Time of Death: 4:19am]**

“Detective...you...you need to wake up. Work is in two hours. I...I can make you breakfast...w-what... would you like...Gavin?”

Nines' voice was glitching, trembling, glancing down at the blood-smeared face of his lover. His eyes were closed, mouth parted only slightly, his own blood sticking obscenely to his stubbled chin.

His former lover.

Gavin Reed was dead. Nines was unsure if he had contacted the police. Warning screens flashed over his vision in a glaring red, telling him he was overheating, his processors weren't running properly, but his fingers remained, gently holding a curl of hair between his fingers.

“Gavin, wake up...”

**[SYSTEM REBOOT IMMINENT]**

“GavIn pLeaSe wAke uP.”

**[Reboot in progress]**

**“Gavin, I am scared.”**

 

 

 

Gavin was buried on a Friday afternoon. Those who attended the funeral were mostly other DPD officers and workers. No androids minus Connor and Nines attended, whether out of Gavin's usual outbursts towards them when he was alive or because he truly only had human friends. Hank sat in the far back, arms crossed, staring down at his feet as the clergyman spoke. He was tapping his foot rapidly, squeezing his body into himself. Connor sat beside him, holding his arm, head bowed as well though most likely more out of custom than emotion.

Hank and Gavin argued a lot when he was alive, it was true; but there was never much bad blood between them. They simply strayed their paths when Hank's child had passed. Gavin had attended that funeral, had spoken a eulogy for Hank. He loved Cole, babysat him when he could, taught him “cool” and “manly” things, like how to eat carrots and the joys of Scooby Doo. Gavin delivered the eulogy with a smile even as tears dribbled down his cheeks. He was strong, for Hank's sake.

Now, Hank wasn't sure how he did it. Even tuning out the clergyman speaking about God and Heaven and all that bullshit, he was only thinking of the past. The young Reed who would beat him in races and go to the gym with him and have a shitty, overpriced beer after work. The same Reed who kept Hank from pulling his _OWN_ gun's trigger on himself, getting pistol-whipped and a broken nose as a thank you. Every time Hank saw Gavin's face—eyed the scar across his nose, still mangled and gnarly and bright—Hank felt angry. Not at Gavin, but at himself.

And now, when Gavin needed someone, Hank wasn't there. Hank had never been there. He eyed Nines in the corner, standing stock still. The android was still completely straight-backed, but his arms hung limply at his sides rather than primed behind his back. His eyes were open but not seeing. Mouth was open as if trying to find the words but nothing came out. Face glued to the casket standing a few yards away, decorated in a flag, flowers and ribbons.

No. Nines was staring at a portrait.

It was him standing beside Gavin, both in DPD uniforms. Gavin had some pink frosting on his cheek, smeared across his beard and glowering through a smile. Nines was gently shoving a doughnut into his face. His birthday last year. The office got together and threw a surprise party and it resulted in a whole bullpen of stained uniforms and doughnut crumbs all around. It was a different time then. Nines could still hear his laugh clear as day. The husky, syrupy sound of his genuine laugh, beaming up at Nines as he held a handful of doughnuts and icing, trying to smash it into his face.

Nines' eyebrows were downcast, the cold blue of his eyes dark and dismal. He was staring at the casket as if Gavin would kick it open at any second and call them all idiots for believing he was gone. For a single thread to grasp and pretend everything was alright. Androids understood death; but they could not face it like a human could. An android could simply be reborn, maybe not as the same person they were, but their cycle was limitless. Humans didn't have that privilege.

The clergyman finished and asked anybody if they wanted to speak on Gavin's behalf. Nines desperately willed his body to move but found himself unable. His systems came back clear, so why was he paralyzed? He willed his body to move but it remained, tied to the grass, eyes staring at the photo frame so hard it was a wonder it didn't burn under his scrutiny.

Captain Fowler made his way up instead, spoke about the past, how Gavin was an upstanding officer and worked his ass off to get where he was. How he was close to getting promoted and would most likely have been soon. The way he watched him in training, how they had their banters even at work. Fowler was hard on him; he was his boss, he had to be. But he cared for Gavin enough to know that he had his own troubles. He didn't know how deep they truly were. Nines felt his throat bob with artificial swallows.

Nobody else had the courage to speak and the funeral was drawn off to a close. Some stragglers stayed behind and said their goodbyes, others left the premises, the mere thought of death bumming them out. Nines made his way to the casket and touch a cold hand to it, feeling his skin peel back to reveal the white underneath. Trying, desperately, to feel for Gavin one last time. But there was nothing but the empty response of the flag beneath his fingertips, covering the wood that held his friend and lover.

He heard footsteps behind him and said nothing for a long moment, hand still remaining skinless on the wood.

“Connor,” he said quietly. “I am...the superior model, correct?”

“You are,” Connor replied just as soft. He glanced a pitied look to Hank whose silver bangs hid his own eyes. He was quick to wipe his nose with a tissue hidden in his sleeve.

“Then why did I fail at saving him?”

Connor tipped his head and knelt beside his twin model.

“You didn't. Mental illnesses aren't...easy to adapt to. You couldn't have known.”

“For years, I protected him and cared for him. I took bullets for him so-so why...” Nines' voice glitched at the end of his words. “Why did I not take that bullet for him too?”

Hank sighed out and turned away, huddling his own frame. Nines knew that, had seen it so many times the past few weeks. He stared hard at the casket and gently ran his thumb along it.

“I am...unable to cry. I have tried, time and again, for him. I feel like...I am failing him. Everybody else here has cried, even you, Connor, and yet I...I was not made to do so.”

Connor hesitated. Of course he was able to cry; he was more “human” than his successor. Deviants could cry. But a high-end model built to only hurt couldn't shed a tear, to show weakness. Nines knew that. It was eating him up in the inside, trying desperately to show anguish and sorrow for the man he loved but being unable to do more than stare at a casket and wonder why he felt so defective.

“Nines, you--”

“Hey.” Hank clapped a hand on the hard android's shoulder and slipped him the framed photo of Gavin and Nines.

“It was my picture, but...I want you to have it. I know pictures are all sentimental and shit, but--” Hank sniffed, stood up straight. “Sometimes, a photo is worth more than any memory. Least for humans. Our memories fade away, s-so, I just thought that...”

“Thank you, Lieutenant.” Nines managed. Hank made a small sound, wiped his nose, and said a few words at the casket before giving it a hearty slap and, looking around to make sure nobody was watching, cracked open a small flask and uncapped it, pouring some whiskey to the ground.

“It uh...it's a shitty brand, but...he liked it. I think he'd be ok with it.”

“That's nice of you, Hank.” Connor said, forcing a small smile and turning back to his successor who watched the alcohol soak into the grass. He would normally be upset; the casket was being disgraced, but he knew better than to question the Lieutenant who had known Gavin for far longer.

“Connor, can you do me a favor?” Nines asked.

“I can try, sure.” he replied.

Nines lifted his free hand and held it up, peeling back the skin once more, watching his twin follow suit. They touched fingers and then held hands. Instantly, Nines lurched a little from his spot on the grass and stared blankly at the blades beneath his knees. Connor twitched a little, mouth twisting into a frown. The frown deepened, Connor looking very troubled, before the connection was broke by Nines.

“I see. That is what crying feels like...thank you.” Nines said, turning his full attention back to the casket. Connor, taking the hint, stood and walked to Hank, who took his hand and slowly left the cemetery. Nines idled his thumb across the wood once more, eyes unblinking as he recalled the interface from moments ago. How it felt to feel fear, feel sadness, the hot wetness running from his eyes, breath hitching in his chest. Connor could cry...and through him, he could cry too. He replayed the feeling in his chest for hours until the time had come to place Gavin to rest.

 

 

Nines didn't leave the cemetery for five days. He remained on the grass, even in the weather, staring blankly at the dirt mound and the large stone of his tomb. The words felt foreign to him as he read and reread them over and over again. Gavin Reed was truly gone. Nines knew that. Nines understood death. What he didn't understand was how to live without him. The routine he had buried himself in for four years was suddenly shattered. Connor had taken care of the cat for him but though he kept talking to Nines, Nines didn't respond and Connor couldn't find him.

It gave Nines some time to dwell on the fragility of life. If a bullet didn't take him, what else would have? Old age, perhaps a medical issue some years down the road? An accident on the job? Nines looked down at his hands. He could protect Gavin from everything...but Gavin's own self. How long did he suffer in silence, wanting to speak to Nines, to talk to the therapist, his own pride and ego deflating his courage? Nines didn't know, wish he pressed harder. Wished he would have given Gavin everything in his final moments. What would have happened if Gavin was tired that night? Would Nines have been given another chance to say he loved him, to try and make it right? Or was he trapped forever knowing that one day, Gavin would still take his own life?

He didn't know. He was a thousand times smarter than any human and yet this simple question evaded him. How could he keep Gavin by his side when Gavin fought desperately to leave?

_'Nines, it's Connor. Please meet me at this address, it's urgent.'_

_“Are you in immediate danger?”_ Nines had replied instantly.

_'No, but it's-”_

_“Leave me alone, please.”_

_'Nines...please. Just for a few moments. I promise it's worth it.”_

Nines said nothing. He knew the location Connor was beckoning him to and he couldn't bring himself to return there. Gavin was the only thing he cared about now and with him gone...

Nines placed his hands on his chest and squeezed. Beneath his fingertips, he felt the jagged clips of his thirium pump beneath his skin. A simple tug and he'd be powering off. He'd be able to join Gavin so...so why...?

Why was he standing and walking? Why was he heading towards the exit? The coordinates in his head, he made his way to the nearest taxi and prepared to meet Connor.

 

 

 

Three weeks had passed since Gavin had passed. Yet...Nines was alright. He had managed, had coped. And, glancing at the figure in front of him, he couldn't help but glaze his eyes over every feature. A man with dark hair was working diligently, the final sounds of a chassis snapping shut and he wiped his brow, tossing back loose strands of hair and clenching a soiled blue screwdriver in his fist.

“That should do it. Are you alright?” he asked Nines, who simply nodded.

“I am, thank you.”

“Good. Give it about...five minutes and we'll get it started once the battery starts charging, is that alright?”

“It is, thank you.” Nines replied, wringing his hands together. Beside him, he felt Connor sit up straight and glance at the figure before them, tipping his head.

“Thank you for coming with me that day,” Connor said quietly. “I know you wanted to be left alone but I...couldn't leave you.”

“I know,” Nines replied. “I do appreciate it. If I had not come here that day, then...I could be dead.” He touched the thirium pump again beneath his black dress shirt and Connor nodded weakly. He understood.

“But...I'm glad you did. Dealing with the loss of a human is difficult with our...differences. I can't say I understood your pain. But I'm glad I could share mine. Even if it sounds a little distressing, knowing you can feel sadness is...”

“I like it.”

“What?”

“Sadness. I...like it. I suppose I should dislike it, but, it helped me understand what Gavin had dealt with. He held it in his chest and dealt in his own ways. In the end, emotions are strong enough to hurt and kill androids and humans alike. I do not think that deviancy is so excitable anymore.”

Connor laughed a little and nodded.

“I suppose not. It has its quirks, though.”

Nines nodded, glanced back up at the figure in front of him and smiled, touching the android's scarred nose with the tip of his finger.

“I suppose it does.”

His eyes went across the android's sleeping face and then fell to its closed eyes. It had been over five minutes now, but only barely, and he saw the charging meter. 10%. He'd need to stay on the charger for a while but he could still operate. Taking a breath, Nines closed his eyes and stood up to see the android at face level.

“Detective, it is time to wake up.”

 


End file.
